The Long Walk
The Long Walk is a short story by about a Toa Hagah of Air's quest for retribution. Story If he were a Toa of Earth, the ground beneath him would quake with every stomp. The Toa of Air named Nagrul stormed down the path towards the fortress in the distance. Surrounding him was a forest of dying leaves, transformed oranges thanks to the seasonal stresses brought about by the coming of Fall. These leaves were clinging onto their branches and trunks in vain, hoping to stay alive as much as possible before the inevitability of the season of bare flora. If they were sentient, if they could think and feel, then their hopes and dreams were crushed by Nagrul's conscious rage. Using his power over the winds, Nagrul was subconsciously surrounding himself with a chilly and strong gust. By the time he had passed a tree, it was stripped of whatever warm color it was forced to adopt. The leaves were torn from the branches and swirled around Nagrul as he marched towards the fortress gates. Anyone who saw him right now in this sight would probably mistake him for an aflame Toa of Fire, having set himself ablaze to signal his coming to all enemies that could see the bright glow. By the time Nagrul arrived at the gate, a strip of the forest he had walked through was now colorless and lifeless. Winter had come early for them. Nagrul fumed as he stared up at the tall gates. He had been here before. In those times, he had wondered why the owner never bothered to decorate the front gates with intricate engravings and archaic symbols that ultimately didn't mean anything. If his former master had shown anything, it was a condescending attitude towards all around him with a flare of high-class tastes. But now was not the time for such inquiries. Both of his hands balled into fists. One squeezed around the string of Kanohi he had brought with him and the other was sent pounding onto the gates. The metallic impacts echoed throughout the forest. In the distance, Rahi birds fled in terror of the sudden sound. After five seconds of nothing, Nagrul inhaled and shouted, "MAKUTA!! I know you're here!" More nothing. "Come out, damn you! I know you're here!" The Toa of Air shouted again. His voice echoed, joining the ambiance of rustling leaves. He was still getting no response. If he had to wait there all day for the Makuta to come out and face him, he was ready and willing. On his way here, he had taken many glances at the string of his friends' faces. Nagrul did so again. He stared at each one by one, memories of good times and bad times flashed through his mind. No matter his attitude, no matter how hot-headed he was, they were always patient with him. They were always there for him. And now who knows where their bodies were. The worst possibility that there were no bodies to bury or burn in a pire. The Makuta had absorbed them into his body. The Toa's mind wandered to another thought from there, that the Makuta might as well have done just that, and had procured valuable information on how he works from his friends' memories. Every move he knew, every technique taught by his mentors would be laid out for the encased gas-person. Years of built-up friendship was being desecrated for the simple purpose of winning a fight. The creak of metallic gates caught Nagrul's attention, tearing him away from his infuriated contemplations and to the large being before him. There he stood, the master turned traitor. But then again, Nagrul thought, there was a saying dictating how you couldn't betray those who you enslave. "Nagrul," greeted the Makuta, smiling. "Welcome home, Toa of Air. I see you recieved my gift. Do you like them?" Trembling, Nagrul raised the chain of masks. He held it up to the Makuta, who continued to smile sadistically. "Why?" He growled. "Why would you do this?" "Oh please, are you not being irrational right now?" snorted the Makuta. "I only sent you a couple of masks that your team members happened to wear. No need for such implications." Nagrul let out a shakey sigh through gritted teeth. The Makuta was taunting him. He wanted to know how Nagrul figured the message out. How he felt when he saw what was possibly the only existing remains of those he was closest to. And he was going to give it to him. That smug smile will be whipped off that mask soon. "Don't play games with me," said Nagrul. "I know you did this. I know who these are. I know what this means." The Toa of Air pointed to the Kanohi Kiril on the string. "This Kanohi. It has this scratched dent on the upper left brow. A small injury Phelan recieved but never bothered to repair on the grounds of him believing it looked impressive." "Wonderful observations," said the Makuta sarcastically. "So I ask again. Why?" The Makuta chuckled. "All you need to know, Nagrul, is that the Brotherhood no longer requires the services of the Toa Hagah. How we break these news was not specified, but I have the feeling all methods are similar. As for your friends, well. They were so easy to trap." Nagrul's glare deepened. "They were so worried about you as well. So concerned about their leader who had been attacked and seriously injured in a chance encounter with an Ash Bear. And I can also see those injuries have not yet fully healed." The reminder was more powerful than Nagrul thought it would be. The claw marks across his neck and chest were beginning to sting. They've scarred over mostly, but his movement was causing them to reopen and hurt. He steeled himself. He was going to have to live through it if he's going to bring down this wretch. "So imagine their further worry when they receive news of a missing Matoran caravan. A group of poor defenseless travellers, up against the wilds of the land, especially after the Ash Bear that was sneaky enough to incapacitate their leader. They must have been so worried that they were in a dilemma. Should they stay with poor pained Nagrul? Or go find and help escort that caravan stranded in the wilderness? Perhaps the capable Matoran, who was the medical expert in the village, assured them Nagrul would be taken care of. Perhaps their worries quelled, knowing their leader was in good hands. "And my. Imagine their shock when they go to the supposed sight of the caravan, in the middle of the night, finding nothing, even though one had a Ruru to see in the dark with and an Elda to find them. I will admit though, Nagrul. Meso was logical as the first one to go." Nagrul really wanted to strike the Makuta then and there. Quickly encase his hand with the force of a miniature hurricane and send all that wind into the arrogant mask of the Brotherhood member. "You still haven't answered my question," Nagrul said quietly. The Makuta leaned closer. "Because I was bored, Toa. I was bored for centuries and I have been itching for a battle. I tired of all this subtlety my peers operated under. It has been a while since I had a good fight against a worthy opponent. So think about it: out of all of your team, who would be brash enough to go up against me alone and without help. You. And even after all this revelation, you still want to face me, don't you?" Nagrul stared up at him. "Yes." It was all a lure. His friends died for the sake of this Makuta's desire to rid himself o fhis boredom. Nagrul chanced another glance at his team's masks. They were dirty. They were covered in grime as if their owners had been thrown about by an unknown force. Slammed against trees, dragged into the ground. Even if they were a Toa of Earth, they were desperate and without hope. How despicable is that? To literally be in your own element and have no chance at winning. Time seemed to slow down for the furious Toa of Air. A long inquiry in a split second. He stared at the string of Kanohi. The Makuta stood before him, smiling smugly at his deed. He was estatic that his prey was in front of him, having taken the bait. That was all this is. A predator hunting his prey. But rather than face him and his team directly, he took the ignoble approach. He tricked his friends to go somewhere where they had hoped to save innocents. That was what they also did besides serving as the Makuta's bodyguards. They saved people. They defended local villages from Rahi attacks. They patroled day and night, searching for adventure and threats. Threats. What if this Makuta, in his boredom, had been fabricating those threats for his Toa Hagah? Allowing them to launch a heroic rescue in the vain hopes that they perhaps skewered themselves against something's horns or crushed by heavy hooves. Nagrul can't help but imagine that the Makuta's pleasure had been a long time coming. He must've hated such beings assigned to protect him from threats he himself could take care of. What an insult for such a higher being. That thought just made Nagrul want to knock the lights out of the monster. But then his eyes landed on the Kanohi Ruru. Blue. It had belonged to a Toa of Psionics named Lezah. The only one in the group that didn't annoy him in some way. Sure he loved them all, but now in hindsight, perhaps Nagrul loved Lezah the most. The way she calmed him whenever she was around. One time, when such a thing happened, Nagrul insensitively brought up the idea that maybe Lezah was calming him with her power over Psionics. Offended, the Toa had smacked Nagrul in the mask with a memory of the time he fell from a tree as a Le-Matoran and refused to speak with him for about two days. In hindsight, Nagrul found it an amusing and lovely moment. He didn't show it, but he saved it as one of his most cherished memories. Maybe Lezah saw it, maybe she didn't. He'll never know now. She was such a positive influence because she made it one of her personal goals as a Toa to get him to mellow out. She hated when he instinctively picked a fight. She hated his tendency to start things. Nagrul shifted his sight to the Kanohi Kiril. Its scratched dent obnoxious Phelan insisted on keeping despite the irony of the Kanohi he wore. Nagrul was always irritated by his antics. The Toa of Stone had always wanted to be a Toa ever since he had laid eyes on Toa Tuyet when she visited his village. Phelan cared about every injury and scar he received alright, but not in the way any normal sane Toa would be. Phelan loved the idea of having proof of adventures on his body. He had a Kanohi Kiril but he refused to use it on himself. "Every scratch, dent, and crack has a story," he would laugh. As team leader, Nagrul was always angry about this. Here he was, working to keep his team together and in one piece, and there was this Toa of Stone actively trying to get hurt. He would dive in front of teammates, taking the full force of whatever blow he was shielding them from. Nagrul would always scold him, finger wagging, and yelling in his raspy voice about how Phelan was a fool. A suicidal fool trying to be a matyr. Phelan laughed him off, puffing out his chest and telling Nagrul about how he should be more appreciative that he was the one taking all the hits for them. Nagrul had grumbled in contempt at the response. Now he imagined, suicidal jokey Phelan, trying his best to do the same for his teammates when they were ambushed. What the Makuta had done to them, he didn't know. But Nagrul knew that Phelan must have tried to shield his friends. He thought about how scared Phelan must have been. Not for himself, but for the others. For Nagrul. How Phelan's leader was defenseless from this strange force that had obviously led them into a trap. He wasn't there to protect his leader if he was next and he would die knowing he couldn't. Even if he wanted scars to show off, those scars were because of Phelan being there to protect those he cared about. The Toa of Air's attention went to the Kanohi Elda. Gentle and timid Meso. He so wanted to move away from his rural village. To see the wonderous sights of Metru Nui, to climb to the tops of the Observation Towers and look at the stars as a Seer. He had even constructed his own telescope to gaze at the Wall of Stars. Unfortunately, destiny had a cruel sense of humor and crushed that dream by placing a Toa Stone in his hand. Never having wanted to be a Toa, Meso had no motivation to actually do battle other than his fear of Nagrul. The Toa of Ice's softness got on Nagrul's nerves a lot. Especially when Meso preferred to stay back and use range attacks with his power over Ice. Nagrul wanted the young Toa to actually get into the field. To actually fight head on rather than from a distance. Much to his regret now, he wished he had let him stay back. At his own silent admission it was sound strategy to have one teammate somewhere where they could survey the site while also participating. Nagrul couldn't count on both of his hands how many times Meso had warned them of incoming danger that could only be seen from where he was standing. And even worse for the Toa of Air was that his harshness towards Meso was an illusion. He had actually been fond of the Toa of Ice but wished for him to grow strong. A chill went up Nagrul's spine as he thought of what might have happened at the ambush. Throughout their time as Toa, Meso had been convinced of the delusion that he could impress Nagrul by maybe being more in the thick of things. There were rare but still noticeable times where Meso had abandoned his strategy and charged forward, blasting ice shards at whatever they were warding off. If Phelan wasn't there to gather more anecdotes, who knows what could've become of the young Elda-wearer. When he saw Nagrul, weak and in an unhealthy state, could he have thought of the notion that if he helped with that possibly non-existent caravan, maybe he could be the Toa Nagrul demanded him to be. Maybe now he could earn the respect for him he believed his leader lacked. He was probably the first to realize what was wrong. His Kanohi Elda itched and vibrated against his skull, alerting him to the presence of the Makuta he had been in the employ of. Before he could warn the others, it was too late. He would no longer have any chances to reach Nagrul's standards or even know that the Toa's strict attitude towards him was one of protectiveness rather than superiority. All three of his friends. All three of the people he knew better than anyone. Gone. And he doesn't even know how it exactly happened. All based on assumption and already aquired knowledge of how his team functioned. They were lured to a trap and slaughtered by their own master. Just...just like he was now. In the split second he was currently frozen in, Nagrul glanced at the Makuta. His prideful expression told him everything. Everything was going according to plan. Everything that he wanted to happen was happening. Maybe he sent that Ash Bear to injure him. He killed this foolish Toa of Air's friends. He enraged him by sending him part of their remains. He got him here with the intentions to fight him to the death. Everything he knew about the Toa Code screamed at him, begging and pleading with him to not kill the Makuta, despite what he had done. Lezah hated when he let his anger control his actions and thoughts. Phelan wanted him and the others safe, preferring to let all harm reach him instead. Meso suffered greatly at his cold behavior, believing he wasn't enough and almost got himself killed for it. They wouldn't want this. They wouldn't want any of this. They wouldn't want him to give in. Don't give in to this malicious coward's desires. He wants a fight. He wants a fight with him. No amount of wind blasts could hope to defeat him. Nagrul knew it. The Makuta knew it. There was going to be one victor. Unless... "So then, Nagrul," the Makuta spoke, stepping back. "Shall we begin?" Nagrul didn't speak. He stared at the string of masks in his hand. A serenity swept across his Kanohi. "No. Never." The Makuta's eyes widened. His mouth fell open. "What?" "You're pathetic, Makuta," Nagrul said. He dropped the masks onto the ground. He let go of the string as if it was a string puppet he no longer wanted. "You feel...so unfulfilled that you go through the effort for a few minutes of excitement. Then what?" The Makuta scowled, but his expression was still one of confusion. "You killed my friends. Three Toa who wanted nothing more than to help and serve innocent people. To help and serve you. To help and serve me." Nagrul looked the Makuta straight in the eyes. "If I know them, they died worrying about me. They probably went out fighting, no matter how brief your ambush was. And for that possibility alone, I'm proud of them. And somewhere out there, I know that they are still worried about me." Nagrul gestured to the masks on the ground. "These are not them. They're just masks. They're just what they wore at one point in their lives. And they're not going to die for nothing." The Toa of Air turned. "Good luck with whatever your Brotherhood has planned, Makuta. I'm sure it'll be better than failing to fight a Toa who doesn't care for you." Nagrul then began walking. His head down, his body slouching. His pace was slow but relaxed. But most important of all, his back was to the dumbfounded, frozen-in-place Makuta. He walked away from the killer of his friends, with a new perspective on everything. But the Makuta didn't agree. His metallic fists clenched. Hinges scraped against each other as the Makuta began growling. "Don't you dare walk away from me," he said in a trembling voice. Nagrul didn't listen. "I SAID." The Makuta took a step back. "DON'T YOU DARE." His armor began to smoke with Elemental Shadow. "WALK AWAY." The Shadow collected into a small whirlpool on his chest. "FROM ME!!" A Shadow Hand burst from it, snaking in the air and grabbing for the unsuspecting Nagrul. Trivia *The story was originally part of a collaboration between BionicleChicken, , , and to write four different installments in a story to relate the individual stages of life as a Toa to the seasons. In this case, this story revolves around Autumn. Category:Short Stories Category:Stories